The Anatomy of Happy Endings
by Segunda Katigbak
Summary: Circumstances say they can't be together.But whoever stops them to make their own, happy endings?


**Title: The Anatomy of Happy Endings**

**Author:** moipaintsasmile

**Note/s:** Been considering this for quite some time until someone requested for a sequel and I worked on it full time. This fic's supposed to be a sequel to _Amats_ but regardless, it can stand alone. Lame title, I know.

x-x-x

As he stepped in front of the full-length mirror beside a rack of cream-colored tuxedos, fingers absent-mindedly fiddling the cuffs of his clean-white dress shirt, he wondered idly how on earth did he get there. It was less likely a dream; he could remember waking up in a huff—the infuriating drone of his alarm clock, the bright stream of sunlight escaping through his open blinds. He remembered throwing the alarm under his bed and everything was quiet for a while before the stupid thing kicked off again—he hated that clock. Then, he remembered burying his head under the pillows, groaning and cussing the morning away. And then, there was Fuyumi fussing over something and pacing his room, talking about his appointment with the couturier today.

He hated mornings. Usually, he would hit the pillows not earlier than five o'clock because of his chronic insomnia and he'd wake up the same morning not later than twelve noon. He scheduled his classes late in the afternoon and his timetable fit his odd lifestyle well. It did, until a few months ago when that damned alarm clock landed on his bedside table.

The clock was a gift. It was childish, almost stupid, and he still cursed her for it. But he didn't want to start a fight so he took the gift, stashed it under his closet for months and pretended it wasn't there until she found out he wasn't using it. He blamed Fuyumi. Sometime later, there he was, struggling every morning to heave his ass off the bed at a ridiculously early hour.

He sighed audibly and cross-examined his reflection on the mirror. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Natsumi. She was a few feet away, chatting animatedly with the couturier, a great friend of hers. It was an hour past noon and had things been different, he would be cursing under the showers, considering if he should cancel his lectures for the day.

After finishing his residency in Boston and garnering his MA a year later, Kyouya worked as a professor at a university in Tokyo. He taught natural sciences there and did a lot of research because his father refused to let his third son tend the business full time. Kyouya did not complain; he was outstripping everyone else who dared challenge him. Besides, he loved his job and the perks of teaching that came along with it.

'What am I doing?'

One of the employees came to assist him and handed him his coat. His suit was carefully chosen among a collection of semi-metallic-colored tuxedos. Natsumi had picked it out and insisted he should try it on because the color gave accent to his eyes. Well, in fact, it did. He ran his fingers through his neat black hair and suddenly, she was right next to him.

"See, told you it fits you well." He gave her a curt smile before adjusting his glasses atop the bridge of his nose. "I have the perfect match for that."

She held up a pinstriped, cobalt blue cravat and fixed it around his neck. Her fingers toyed and drew patterns on his broad shoulders and for a moment, they were staring at each other in silence. When they caught themselves, Kyouya quickly looked away and cleared his throat and Natsumi laughed nervously and brushed unseen dirt on the collar of his coat.

"You know," she began while turning to the mirror to look at him. "If I were Victoria, seeing you in that suit today, I'd fall in love with you over again."

Kyouya tried to catch her eyes but she was not looking at his face. He chuckled, a light albeit a feigned one, as he reached out to mess her hair. When he tore himself away from the mirror, he glanced at the couturier and said, "I'll take the suit."

x-x-x

Kyouya and Natsumi have known each other for as long as they could remember. Most of their childhood was spent with the other and if Kyouya would not lie, he'd say Natsumi could pass as his best friend if Tamaki would not exactly claim the position; Natsumi would claim likewise.

They've been inseparable since kindergarten and only when Natsumi was forced to leave for art school in Germany did they actually part. And then there were those silly childhood promises that they would never let each other go or they would get married with each other in the future. When one of them would mention it, they'd laugh and dig old photo albums to share the sentiment.

Unfortunately, they haven't been able to do that lately.

Circumstances were different and real feelings got involved. She was falling in love; he was too. But Victoria came along and in the corporate world, business was more important than feelings or romance.

"Feelings are a dangerous territory," he would often hear his father say and Kyouya knew he was failing. But he tried-tried-even though sometimes, it felt like someone squeezing the air out of his lungs or a pair of knobby hands clenching the life out of his heart. But he tried and he was failing badly.

And now, Natsumi was back and he's getting married in a week. Two nights ago, she barged into his apartment screaming at the top of her lungs about a broken Chinese jar and alcohol was involved. She was too inebriated to remember what happened but it comprised a few inaccurate names, the contents of her stomach emptied on his favorite shirt and a confession that took his breath away. Then again, considering the situation they were in, it was best to leave that night as a vague memory and another forgotten one.

x-x-x

He changed into a clean pair of pants and a white V-neck as he sat on the couch and sipped pink champagne. Natsumi was inside a dressing room, trying on a random dress the couturier had chosen from the rack beside him. Suddenly, he was anxious. He rested on the sofa and drained his flute to calm his nerves. An attendant gave him a refill.

Natsumi was attending and he wondered if it was a good idea. He knew it would break her heart and he knew it would break his too. But with pretend, Kyouya could manage without sweat. He was worried about her.

The door on Natsumi's cubicle unbolted and she emerged slowly from the dress room. And then, his heart skipped a beat and raced double-time. Suddenly, it felt like prom. When she made her way to him, he felt enchanted. Only when she touched his cheek did he get his wits back and stood up. He drained the second flute and put it on the table beside the couch.

"You're beautiful." The words rolled out of his tongue before he could stop himself. She spluttered apprehensively and dismissed his comment. She turned away, stepped in front of the mirror and studied her reflection.

"It looks fine," she said while running her hands through her hair. The dress was a loose pale-yellow chemise with a high waist and low neckline. If she wore toe shoes and white stockings, she'd look like a doll, Kyouya remarked though unspoken.

"You look younger though," he said while helping her tie the ribbon around her waist. "You used to wear this stuff when we were younger. Ugh, the ruffles."

Natsumi smiled while regarding him serenely over their reflection. Kyouya pulled something out of his pocket. "Fuyumi has something for you," he said while holding up a silver necklace with a cross pendant.

"It's beautiful," she said as Kyouya unchained it helped her put it on. Natsumi combed her hair up front. He tried not to stare at the elegant slope of her neck and the smooth skin. He tried not to breathe the smell of lilac and lavender. As soon as he finished, he took a step back and he was a meter away. It was best if he kept distance.

"Should I take it?" she asked while turning to face him.

"You should take it," he said with a nervous smile. Kyouya finished another flute of champagne while Natsumi changed. His head felt light though he wished he had taken something stronger. They paid with plastic.

x-x-x

"Should we eat?" he asked as they moved along a busy highway. Kyouya was driving and Natsumi was on the passenger seat.

"Do you think it's okay?" she asked warily without looking at him.

"Why not?"

"Shouldn't Victoria be the one accompanying you right now?" she aimed at him nonchalantly.

"She's quite busy right now," he replied while driving the car to a curve to the right. "I think we should eat. I'm quite hungry."

"I'm not hungry. Could you just take me back to the hotel?"

"Natsumi, you're welcome to stay at the mansion."

"Kyouya, I don't want to." She sighed audibly and leaned on the backrest. "Just drive me back to the hotel."

In a matter of minutes, Kyouya had parked his car illegally at a curb right next to Natsumi's hotel. She muttered a thanks and was about to step out of the car when Kyouya put up the locks. Natsumi tried not to glare.

"You need to tell me something," Kyouya said, unabashed.

Natsumi sighed and spoke in a quiet voice, "I'm tired. Maybe later."

"What is it about?" He knew her well.

She bit her lip and thought about it for a while. "Do you really want to know?" Natsumi glanced at his direction and eventually gave up. "Fine. I don't want you to get married. It's childish, I know but-all of it is just too sudden I can't . . . "

Her voice was shaking. "That's what I wanted to say. Are you okay now?"

"No," he spoke through gritted teeth. That clenching feeling up on his chest was hurting again and he fought back tears. 'I don't want this, Natsumi.'

"Can I go now?"

No one spoke a word. He didn't dare look at her. Kyouya unbolted the locks and Natsumi stepped out quickly and slammed the door behind her. He released the brake and he was rushing away from her. He didn't look back.

x-x-x

The lights were dim and Kyouya wallowed in the darkness. He sat on the empty bar in his apartment, and he was hunched over a glass of whiskey. The bottle sat a foot away, already half-empty.

Kyouya glanced at the direction of his front door when the lock clicked. Fuyumi rushed in noisily-she was rambling.

"You're drinking," she said, noticing the bottle of Johnny Walker right next to him.

"Remarkable observation." Kyouya's attempt to smile was sloppy. Fuyumi was not amused.

"You don't drink alone, Kyouya."

"That's why you're here." He jumped out of his stool and moved to her side. Kyouya draped an arm around her shoulder and led her to the bar. Fuyumi occupied the empty space beside him and he returned to his seat. Pulling out a glass decanter from the rack, Kyouya filled it with the amber liquid and gave it to his sister.

"Kyouya, you're already drunk."

"Ah, neesan. You're such a great observer."

Fuyumi waited for the silence to settle. Kyouya shut up, drained his glass and poured himself another one. The peace was comfortable and after a few seconds, Kyouya opened up.

"Am I doing the right thing?" he asked and Fuyumi understood what he was talking about. She's been there.

"Yes and no," she said. Fuyumi bit her lip. "Whatever your decision, it will make you happy if you want it to make you happy."

Kyouya scoffed. "What does that mean?"

She chose not to answer that. Instead, Fuyumi brought the crystal to her lips and took a small sip.

"Do you regret it?" he asked. He was hidden in a shadow and his face was obscured in the darkness.

"You mean, Akihiro and my two lovely daughters? No," Fuyumi shook her head. "I don't regret it."

She reached out to touch his hand. Fuyumi squeezed it and Kyouya did not push her away. "I know how hard it is. I've been there. But Kyouya, eventually, you just have to let things be. If you would ask me right now if I still wonder what could have happened if I refused the arrangement, yes. Sometimes, I still think about it. But when I start to imagine the 'what ifs,' everything else becomes obscure. All I can see is the present and I try to focus on it."

Kyouya seemed to think about this. "But I don't want to let her go."

"I know. But you have to." Fuyumi let go of his hand. "In the end, it's still up to you though."

Kyouya sighed and drained his glass. "Sometimes, I wish I weren't an Ootori."

"I do too."

x-x-x

Kyouya stood by the altar, listening serenely to the music playing. Tamaki was at the piano and Mori was at the violin. The music was beautiful. He closed his eyes and waited.

Somehow, it was peaceful and Kyouya found himself relaxing. "I'm getting married," he muttered to himself and he was uncertain which emotions he should feel right now. Joy, perhaps. Sorrow, less likely. It was difficult to mask joy.

When the double doors of the cathedral opened, he saw brightness. Victoria looked stunning on the dress; it was an Ungaro, with graceful lines and sensuous fabrics and sophisticated design. Her hair was parted to one side it was adorned with pale-colored flowers that accentuated her flowing red mane. She was beautiful.

Kyouya turned to his side and Natsumi was there, admiring Victoria who was walking down the aisle. Kyouya tried to ignore the pain. She caught him stare, and she waved. Kyouya gave her a forlorn smile and looked at his bride. He was getting married. Kyouya was looking ahead.

x-x-x

A little boy, age four, sat on his lap and bounced up and down, trying to get his father's attention. Kyouya bent down to rub his nose against his son's forehead and the boy clung on his neck, wanting to be carried. Kyouya obliged by standing up and the boy wrapped his tiny legs around his father's waist. Kyouya held him tight. Soon, the boy was napping on his shoulder. He strolled to the balcony where cool air escaped and he inhaled the fresh August breeze.

"Kyouya? What are you doing here?" a warm voice came from behind and he turned to his back. Despite the years, the German accent on her voice was still there, laced on every syllable. Victoria stood there with a shawl around her shoulders, her lovely face dripping with concern.

"Kyosuke's fallen asleep."

"You have a visitor," she told him serenely while taking the little boy from Kyouya's arms.

"Who is it?"

"Natsumi."

Kyouya chuckled amusedly. Last week, she dropped by to bring about a dozen presents for Kyosuke. She did every week. Sometimes, she'd pop in to kidnap the boy and she'd bring him to movies. Kyouya feigned an irritated tone, "What is it this time?"

"There's something she wants to tell you. I'll tuck Kyosuke in. You go downstairs. She's in the living room."

Kyouya arrived downstairs to find her browsing the stack of magazines on the counter. He caught her attention with a, "You're not after Kyosuke, are you?"

Natsumi smiled and waved at him. "Of course not."

"Then, what is it?" he asked when he reached her. She pecked him on both cheeks.

"I have some sort of an announcement to make."

"Well then, shoot."

Natsumi smiled again, a toothy one, while holding up four fingers at eye level. Kyouya saw it: the diamond over a band of platinum. He already knew even before she said it. "I'm getting married!"

"You're getting married." Kyouya pondered her words. "To whom?"

"Guess."

He eyed her skeptically and said, "No." Kyouya waved her off. "He wouldn't do that."

The smile reached her ears. "It's Hikaru."

Silence, that comfortable silence. Kyouya sighed blithely and reached over to pull her to a tight embrace. She was so small she fit snugly against his chest.

"Congratulations," he whispered to her ear.

Natsumi hugged him back. "Thank you."

x-x-x

Note/s: Reviews are appreciated. :)


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